"Men of Stones? That sounds... intriguing. What exactly are they?" Emperor Maximo asked as he leaned forward, feeling intrigued by her words.

Amelia tapped her tablet, pulling up an image of the project. The screen displayed a detailed blueprint of large, humanoid figures made of stone and metal, with runes glowing faintly along their limbs. The figures were massive, each one towering over a regular human soldier, resembling a fusion of ancient magic and modern robotics.

“What the fuck? They look like they came out from one of those overrated Japanese Cartoons,” remarked one of the general staff members.

“They look more like Gundam. No doubt that Yoshiyuki Tomino designed it. And it's Anime, you imbecile!” One politician shouted, seemingly offended.

"These 'Men of Stones' are essentially a new breed of combat golems," Amelia began. "Odysseus uses his Earth Magic to construct their bodies from reinforced materials, while Yoshiyuki Tomino has integrated advanced AI systems into them. The result is a self-operating golem that can think and react in combat situations, combining magic and technology seamlessly."

"AI-powered golems?" Maximo rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So, they’re autonomous?"

"Yes, though not fully independent. The AI allows them to function without constant oversight, but they still follow orders and can be given commands through a neural network. Think of them as soldiers who never tire, never hesitate, and can adapt to battlefield conditions in real-time."

“They seem similar to the Archangels Unit.”

One of the generals at the table frowned. "And how are they different from the regular Earth Golems we've seen in the field?"

Amelia pulled up more data. "Traditional Earth Golems are powered by a single magic user and are bound to that caster’s will. If the caster is incapacitated or too far away, the golem becomes inactive. The Men of Stones are different because of the AI, once they're activated, they can function independently. They can analyze threats, engage enemies, and even learn from previous encounters to improve their efficiency."

Maximo seemed impressed but cautious. "And how strong are they compared to regular soldiers or even the Orcs?"

"They're designed to be nearly indestructible, at least against conventional weapons. Their stone bodies are infused with magic to be highly resistant to physical and magical attacks. Plus, they have immense strength, enough to lift and throw a small tank, according to early tests. Against the Orcs, we estimate they'd be highly effective, especially against larger threats like High Orcs and Orc Lords."

"And the AI," Maximo continued, "How smart are we talking? Can it make decisions in combat that might outwit an enemy?"

"Not quite at that level yet," Amelia admitted. "The AI is sophisticated, but it’s focused more on combat tactics than complex strategy. They can assess a situation, identify threats, and engage accordingly, but they're not going to devise war plans on their own. They’ll still need human oversight for broader strategic decisions."

One politician raised a hand. "What about their durability and cost? Are they expensive to produce?"

Amelia nodded. "They’re definitely resource-intensive. Each golem requires rare materials and significant mana input to construct, not to mention the AI components. But Odysseus and Tomino have been optimizing the process and have made 3 of them for the past week so far. As for durability, initial tests show they can withstand extreme conditions and take heavy damage without losing functionality. They could even survive a direct hit from a 120mm armor-piercing round."

Maximo leaned back, clearly intrigued. "If we could mass-produce these golems, we could change the entire dynamic of our military. Fewer human casualties, more flexibility in combat, and an edge against these evolving threats. How soon can we expect to see them in action?"

"Odysseus and Tomino estimate the first combat-ready units will be deployed within the next few days, pending final adjustments," Amelia replied. "They're currently working on integrating the samples from the crystal of the Level 2 Boss, which could potentially give the golems an even greater power source."

Maximo's eyes widened slightly. "So, we might be looking at golems powered by those crystals? That would make them virtually unstoppable, wouldn’t it?"

Amelia smiled. "That's the idea."

———————————————————————

Austronesia Empire, Imperial Majahapit, New Guinea, Orc Camp

1st Year of God, Friday, 3rd Week, Month of Abraham

Under the cloak of midnight, darkness dominated an abandoned city, which is now under the Orcs' control. The heart of their encampment was a massive tent with its interior so black it seemed to devour any trace of light. Jiak the Skull Krusher couldn't see anything as he was guided into the center of the tent by unknown hands.

“Warmaster, ya have kome for ‘da ritual,” A rasping voice came from the darkness. “But ta claim power, someth'n must be sacrificed. Wot will ya offer?”

“I offa 'da blood uv fallen enemiez,” Jiak intoned, following the ancient ritual. “Ma blood for life, an’ ma bones for strength.”

“For dis, 'da ancestors shall rise an’ br'n chaos ta 'da liv'n!” the Elder concluded and Jiak felt the hands pulling him back as the ceremony began in earnest.

Outside the tent, Jiak heard the Elder’s chant grow, echoed by the shamans seated in a tight circle. A deep, sinister red light glowed at their feet, and the magic circle slowly coming alive with eerie crimson hues. At the center of the magic circle lay a naked bound and gagged elf, splayed across a black obsidian altar.

The naked elf squirmed desperately, trying to free his bonds as his eyes wide with terror as he jerked left and right against the restraints. The chanting rose to a high frenzy and the shamans drummed a relentless beat against the dirt with human thigh bones as the rhythm driving the captive to the brink of madness.

As the magical glow glew brighter and brighter, the elf’s eyes bulged grotesquely, turning red as blood vessels bursting in his head. Blood streamed from his ears and nose as his body convulsed, bending backward in an impossible angle and his muscles spasmed.

A wordless scream tore from his throat, drowned out by the chaotic chanting and the feverish pounding of the drums. The tension reached its peak, and in an instant, the elf’s body exploded into a spray of blood and mist, leaving behind only bones and decaying flesh.

The tent fell into sudden, oppressive silence as darkness reclaimed the space. The Elder approached the remains and dug out through them until he found the elf's heart, which still faintly beating and rotting within his grasp as he placed it in a small pouch.

“Burn 'da rest. Ensure noth'n remains but ash,” he commanded before stepping out of the tent with the heart.

Jiak stood outside, waiting with several of his warriors arranged in a semicircle. “Iz it done?” he asked as the Elder emerged.

The Elder raised the pouch with dark stains leaking from its sides. “We are ready.”

Without another word, Jiak turned and led the way, his warriors and the Elder following closely. They navigated the forest’s twisted roots and damp soil by the light of their torches, before arriving at a broad clearing bathed in firelight.

His warriors spread out, their torches illuminating the clearing, where it revealed to be a graveyard, where stones jutted from the earth, and the Elder sensed each one marking a body buried beneath.

"We found where da 'umiez buried most uv dere dead," Jiak said, gesturing to the cemetery.

“‘cellent,” the Elder hissed and moved through the stones until he came to a stop before pointing to a patch of ground. “Dig ere. Make ‘da hole deep as tall as an orc.”

At Jiak’s command, the warriors began digging. He stood back and crossed his arms as he waited. Within the time it took for sand to run through a glass, they had hollowed out a pit with the walls revealing fragments of rotting bones. The Elder inspected the hole, circling it twice and seemingly satisfied, he dropped the pouch inside and beginning a low, guttural chant.

Even as a Transcendent Tier 1, Jiak couldn’t suppress the chill creeping down his spine as the Elder's chant echoed through the clearing. His skin prickled with goosebumps, and he fought to keep his stomach from rebelling and the urge to vomit. Planting his feet firmly, he tried to shut out the nauseating sound and ignored The chanting.

Suddenly, one of the Orc warriors let out a strangled cry while holding his head in agony. He staggered in frenzied circles before crashing into a tree with such force that his skull split open, splattering brain matter across the bark. Another warrior trembled violently with his pee running down his legs.

Just as quickly as it had begun, the chanting stopped, and the Elder turned toward Jiak with the hint of a smile visible beneath the shadow of his hood. Gliding over to the fallen Orc, he paused, leaning over the cracked skull and poked the spilled brain matter with a skeletal finger.

“Hmmm,” the Elder mused, inspecting the grisly remains. “The Spirits are pleased. This is a good omen.”

Jiak clenched his fists to stop them from shaking and gathered his voice, which felt trapped in his throat.

“Is it done?”

Around him, the other warriors struggled to recover themselves from the sanity inducing chanting. Some had collapsed with weakened legs while others vomited or stood in pools of their own piss. None dared meet the Elder's gaze or look at their unfortunate kin.

“Yes, yes,” the Elder muttered, still toying with the dead Orc's brains. With a casual motion, he wiped the gray matter onto his fingers, then slipped them beneath his hood, tasting the fresh brains as if savoring a delicacy. “It iz done. All iz as it should be. Now, we wait.”

Jiak exhaled, his strength returning just as the ground beneath him began to squirm and move. He quickly stepped back and kept alert as he watched the soil writhe and crumble. A chorus of moans rose from the mound of human corpses, and the Orc who had just committed suicide jerked up on all fours and stood up, moving like a puppet on invisible strings.

"Ahhh, ma children," the Elder crooned with glee, clapping his hands like a delighted child. “Kome ta me!”

The living dead heeding the Elder's words stood up and shuffled over to join him, while skeletal hands burst through the soil and clawed their way out to the surface.

Rotting corpses, both Orc and human alike, dragged themselves from the earth, forming a growing mass of undead. Jiak watched in grim fascination. He had heard tales and stories of the Elders' power over the dead, but seeing it first hand was something else entirely. The once-mighty Orc warriors, stood lifelessly beside the remains of human soldiers, which most of them were just bones and tattered cloth clinging to their skeletal frams, stood awaiting the words of the Elder.

"It iz time," Jiak said to the Elder and saluted with more respect than usual. With an undead army at their command, all they need to do is wait till the defenders exhaust themselves before the Orc pushes in. "Send im against 'da 'umiez. Dey’ll be perfect for a night attack."

The Elder’s grin widened. “Spirit Warriors, kome! Tonight, ya live again!”

————————————————————————

Austronesia Empire, Imperial Majahapit, New Guinea, Alpha Wall

1st Year of God, Monday, 4th Week, Month of Abraham

Eurylochus dozed off with his head resting against his helmet, slouched in the corner of the bunker walls. He was having a good dream about having a buffet feast, gorging himself with the free flow crustaceans and shellfish, drinking wine and champagne.

“Lance Corporal Eurylochus!” A voice cut through the haze of his dream, yanking him back to reality. He jolted awake, instinctively grabbing his AF-1 Magic Rifle with a sharp gaze.

“What?” He squinted at the dark figure crouched beside him. “Damn, I was just about to get into that lobster.” he groaned as he wiped the drool from his chin.

“Huh?” The soldier blinked at him, clearly confused.

“Never mind,” Eurylochus grunted, stretching his stiff limbs. “What's going on?”

“We heard something coming from the slopes,” the soldier whispered urgently. “Shhh, there it is again!”

Eurylochus pressed his ear against the firing slit and listened hard, but he couldn't really hear anything. He looked at the intent of his fellow recruit soldier, and wondered if he has an elf ear as their ears can hear at a higher frequency than humans, like a dog. “I got nothing, can’t see or hear shit.”

“Shhh!” the recruit insisted, pointing into the inky darkness. “There! Sounds like... like scratching. Lots of hands, scratching.”

Eurylochus focused harder, finally picking up a faint scraping sound, like rocks tumbling across the slope. “Hold on.” He activated his comms. “Thunderchief, this is Apache Three. Do you copy, over?”

[Thunderchief, send.]

“Possible night probe at our location. Standby, over.”

[Roger, standby.]

Eurylochus turned back to the outside view, "Eh, think we better close our eyes first," And just as he said that two stabbing beams of white light cut through the darkness, illuminating the terrain in front of the wall. "Ow." Eurylochus flinched as the bright lights killed his night vision.

“OH MY GOD!” The soldier beside him gasped in terror.

Eurylochus blinked hard, trying to clear his vision, and then he saw them, shadows slithering up the slopes, limbs contorted in unnatural angles. Some of them clung to the near-vertical cliffs with skeletal fingers.

“Fuck me,” he muttered. “What the hell are those?”

"Fucking zombies!" The soldier shouted, his eyes looked unnaturally large in the reflected light as he watched the figures claw their way forward.

The spotlights swept downward, flooding the ground in front of the wall with harsh white light, revealing more crawling, shambling figures, disjointed, broken bodies, missing limbs, bones exposed.

And soon after, a loud and shrill whistle cut through the air.

“Contact!” Eurylochus finally shouted, snapping out of his daze. He keyed his comms and yelled into the radio, “Wake the hell up, everyone! We are now in Zombie Mode of this bullshit!”

Shoving his AF-1 rifle through the firing slit, he leveled the scope on a moving corpse and took a breath.

“Remember. Go for headshots!”

A distant whistle pierced the early morning air, followed by the sharp crackle of red tracer rounds streaming from Magic Guns along the defensive lines as the soldiers prepared to defend against the new threat while their eyes trained on the creeping shadows ahead, as the night wind whisked away the smoke from their weapons, clearing the field for rapid fire.

Eurylochus fired his customized Magic Rifle as fast and accurately as best as he could, feeling the familiar kick of the recoil slamming into his bruised shoulder. Despite the chaos, he couldn't help but find a twisted enjoyment in the rhythm of it, the snap of the trigger, the hammering thud against his body.

His rifle, outfitted with a 2x magnified red dot sight he'd personally installed and built into the frame of his gun, allowed him to pick off the undead with ease. He lined up the red dot on the chin of a slow walking rotting corpse and squeezed the trigger, feeling the recoil hammering against his shoulder.

His bullet blasted through the upper jaw of the dead Orc, shattering teeth and bone, before blowing out the upper spinal cervical, dropping the Orc like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

"Headshot!" he muttered with a grim satisfaction rising in his chest.

“Aim for the heads!” Eurylochus shouted to the other soldiers as he noticed their scattered, ineffective fire. “Come on, you’re the Liberation Army! You can shoot better than that!” He punctuated his words with another headshot, dropping a zombie cleanly. “They’re practically as slow as your grandma! How can you miss it?!”

At this point, more spotlights had lit up, turning the battlefield as bright as day. The undead appeared in many kinds, from fresh Orc corpses to rattling skeletons. Even dead animals could be seen in the mix. The fresher corpses moved faster as their decaying muscles seemed to still hold some strength while the older rotted skeleton ones moved slower, and a bullet in the head ended all life regardless if it was living or dead.

"How many are there?!" someone shouted over the din.

Despite the jerky, lumbering movement of the undead, the defenders were not killing them fast enough. Normally, a bullet wound would incapacitate anyone and stop them dead in their tracks, maybe not an Orc, but close. These creatures, however, shrugged off anything that didn’t obliterate their brains as they dragged themselves forward in their determined relentless approach to the walls.

Eurylochus fired again, cursing under his breath as the undead continued to swarm. "Damn it, there's too many. Focus on the heads, or they might climb each other up like that one World War Zombie book!”

But to his relief, when the undead hit the walls, they found no way to enter nor climb. The concrete walls were angled 25 degrees outwards with the tops of the walls rounded and lined with barbed wire, making it impossible for their rotting fingers and bony hands to find any purchase on the smooth surface.

Frustrated, they hammered their rotting fists and bony hands against the armored cargo doors in a vain effort to break the gate. Those still with functioning vocal cords growled and moaned, while the skeletons rattled their loose jaws.

The defenders could hear the clamor, but none of it threatened to breach the fortress.

[Thunderchief to all units, cease fire! Cease fire!] The command crackled over the comms.

“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Eurylochus relayed, and the soldiers, grateful for the break, stopped shooting.

They rubbed their bruised shoulders and checked their magazines, most of them running low after days of near-constant engagements. The smarter ones had already padded their rifle butts with scraps of cloth or hide to lessen the impact from the recoil, but even that hadn’t stopped the deep blue-black bruises blooming across their shoulders from the impacts of the constant firing.

"What now, Corporal?" one of the men asked, eyeing the growing horde at the base of the walls.

Eurylochus took off his helmet and scratched at the soot on his face. "No point wasting ammo on those things since they can't get in." He leaned over the firing slit and watched the mass of undead below as their arms reached upwards in vain. He spat down, muttering, "Headshot."

Suddenly, he held up a hand, silencing the men as a new message came through his comms.

“Wait…” His expression shifted, and a grin crept across his face. "Oooh, this is gonna be fun."

He turned to his squad. “Alright, everyone, go to your pouch and pull out a bullet with a red tip. We’re switching to Fire Magic Rounds.”

The men exchanged glances, then shrugged as they dug through their gear, each pulling out the specially marked ammunition and loading it into their Magic Rifles.

Moments later, a series of fiery explosions ripped through the writhing mass of undead, setting them ablaze. One by one, the Fire Magic bullets detonated, igniting the horde and turning them into smoldering piles of ash.

“Damn,” Eurylochus muttered with a satisfied grin, “I do love magi-tech.”

The fire spread quickly as the magical flames tore through the undead with ruthless efficiency. In minutes, the majority of the horde was nothing more than charred remains, while the few still intact turned and fled back into the night, retreating from the inferno.

Eurylochus surveyed the carnage below, slinging his rifle over his shoulder with a sigh of relief. "That’s how you deal with zombies. Now, who’s up for some breakfast?”

————————————————————————

“Well, that was new and unexpected,” Master Sergeant Pice puffed out his cheeks, shaking his head slightly. “I totally wasn’t expecting that.”

“Me neither,” Lieutenant Colonel Ciaphas Cahyono replied with a mix of fatigue and disbelief in his tone. Both men stood next to the tactical table, while their eyes fixed on the displays in the command center, where the flickering screens showed the aftermath of the fiery onslaught outside.

“Damn, are they really undead? Like, actual zombies and skeletons?” Pice asked, still trying to wrap his head around the sight of the mass of charred bodies.

“Every time my brain adjusts to the shit this planet has, it throws me another curveball,” Ciaphas sighed heavily. “Honestly, I’d love to have someone like Odysseus here to consult on all this... voodoo and occult shit.”

“Same,” Pice nodded, exhaling as if that thought somehow soothed the absurdity. “This whole place definitely is straight out of some fantasy game. And yeah, we definitely need Odysseus’ expertise.”

“Good idea.” Ciaphas turned to one of the communications operators stationed nearby. “Get Odysseus on the line and bring him here ASAP. We need someone who knows what we’re dealing with.”

The operator immediately set to work, patching the request through. Pice, meanwhile, leaned over another operator’s shoulder. “Should we call the Elf Queen for some insight on this?” he asked.

Cahyono shook his head. “Nope. We’re already leaning way too much on outside help, literal Gods bailing us out. We humans can still handle this, and we should.”

Pice gave a grunt of agreement and turned back to the screen. “Fair enough. How’s the new task force holding up?”

“Looking good from the screens,” Ciaphas responded as he focused on a feed from the Wall’s frontline. “The undead are getting nice and crispy. Good work with those Fire Magic rounds.”

“And the rest are retreating.” Pice pointed at the few undead staggering away from the light of the spotlights. “It’s almost like they’re being controlled. Whoever, or whatever, is behind this, they’re pulling the strings.”

“Or something,” Ciaphas muttered, narrowing his eyes. “What’s that thing called? Negi-something?”

“A necromancer, sir,” one of the operators chimed in, not missing a beat. “That’s what you’re thinking of.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Pice snapped his fingers. “A necromancer. Read about that in one of those lore books the government’s been forcing everyone in the country to read. Something called Dragons and Dungeons? Apparently, it’s part of the new curriculum now in schools.”

"Hmmm, if there is a necromancer, as you say, this could turn into a serious problem," Cahyono muttered with a frown as he leaned over the map spread across the table. "Look here, this is the place where we occupied." He pointed to several places such as populated cities, military bases, and defensive outposts. "And here’s where we estimate the enemy is concentrated." His finger traced a path to a marked area in the rugged mountain ranges of New Guinea. "The New Guinea Highlands. Historically, it’s the same area where the Australians, Americans, and local forces fought against the Imperial Japanese during World War II. The New Guinea Highland Campaign."

Pice nodded, watching Cahyono's finger trace the route. "So you’re saying they’ve reanimated old corpses, possibly even from the campaign?"

Cahyono folded his arms with a serious expression. "That’s exactly what I’m thinking. I don't know how they are reanimating their dead, but if they’re pulling corpses from that far back, along with their own recent dead, then we’ve got a massive problem. This means they can reanimate the dead from any time frame. Every casualty in this area, from years or even centuries ago, could potentially join their army, which the numbers will favor them greatly. And those we've just shot down today? They’ll be back at our walls by nightfall."

“Look at this,” Pice interrupted, nodding toward Screen Six. The display showed a clearly dead carcass of some sort of Tree-Kangaroo creature, who is half rotten with its eyes missing but body moving. “They’re not just raising humans and Orcs. They’re bringing back animals too.”

“Oh fuck,” Cahyono cursed under his breath. "This is going to be like the Battle of Aceh during the New Year Tragedy. Wait, what about the dead Orcs we already shot?"

Pice waved a hand, reminding him, "We retrieved most of the bodies, remember? Beheaded them just to make sure they weren’t playing possum. Beheading seems to stop the reanimation process. But yeah, the eggheads are going to have a field day when they see all those headless bodies."

Cahyono chuckled darkly, rubbing his temple. "Good call. Seems like the trick is either destroying the head or burning them completely. Flamethrowers, napalm, whatever we’ve got that can reduce them to ashes. The key is making sure they can’t come back."

“Problem is," Pice added, "We’re fighting an endless army. New Guinea’s jungles are full of forgotten deceased bodies of soldiers hidden in the jungles ready to raise to the living. The necromancer, or whoever’s behind this, has an almost limitless supply of soldiers. We’ll need to use the new task force to focus on the undead. No point in wasting regular ammunition."

"Exactly. Fortunately, we've got over nine hundred thousand rounds of Magic Rifle ammo in storage." Pice said as he checked off their supplies. "That should be enough to cover our defenses for a while."

"Good." Cahyono nodded as he went deep in thought. "Stick to the daily rotations. Let the relief team take over in the morning and make sure they're briefed on this undead threat. And once the undead start clustering, we'll have Omega-191 drop the hammer on them. Why waste ammo on the minions when we can save it for the main boss?"

Pice grinned. "Agreed. We’ll get the post-combat recovery teams to behead and burn all corpses, starting now. No more risks."

“And we’ll need Odysseus to figure out how to stop this reanimation magic.” Cahyono added, turning toward the operator handling the comms. "Contact him as soon as possible. We can’t afford to keep shooting our way through wave after wave."

"One more thing," Pice leaned in as his voice lowered slightly. "Whose magic do you think this is? The demons, or the orcs?"

————————————————————————

Austronesia Empire, Imperial Majahapit, New Guinea, Jayapura Mining Complex, Odysseus' Workshop

1st Year of God, Monday, 4th Week, Month of Abraham

Odysseus was poring over the documents Tomino had sent for their project when the sudden sound of hurried, heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway outside his workshop. He glanced at the digital clock on the wall, showing the time to be 1:13 AM, and frowned, wondering who else could be here at such a late hour.

"Odysseus Von Aston?" a voice called from outside. Curious, he leaned out of his workshop and saw a pair of humans in black uniforms. One of them was peering into another room, calling out again, "Are you here, sir?"

"Yes?" Odysseus replied, catching their attention. They quickly turned towards him with a mix of urgency and relief in their expressions. "What can I do for you, Po-lease Officers?" he asked, recalling what the humans called them.

"Finally, we've found you," one of the men said, visibly relieved. "We need you to come with us, sir."

Odysseus frowned in confusion. "What’s happened? Where do you need me to go?"

"There’s no time to explain, sir," the other officer said in a grave tone. "Your help is needed immediately."

————————————————————

Jiak grunted as he glared out from the cover of the forest while his eyes fixed on the walls, which were now glowing with an eerie, magical light.

"Da spirits won't be able ta sneak up on im," he muttered, his voice thick with frustration. "Dey fight surprisingly well for a bunch uv 'umiez."

The Elder remained silent, either ignoring Jiak's remark or simply not hearing it. Irritated, Jiak glanced at the old shaman, something unsettling catching his attention from the hooded figure. As he moved closer, he could make out faint whispers emanating from beneath the cloak, whispers that made his head throb, his skin prickle, and goosebumps rise all over his body. He quickly stepped back, unwilling to linger near the Elder's unnerving presence.

His other Orc warriors also kept their distance from the Elder as their wariness heightened not just by the shaman, but by the gathering of the dead, pulled from their graves to serve. The flickering torchlight cast shifting shadows among the corpses, giving the unnerving impression that the shadows themselves were stalking the orcs, making them uneasy and restless.

Jiak peered through a precious eyeglass, which had been looted at some point in time in the past, its former owner no longer around to protest its use. The eyeglass brought the scene at the wall closer, and he could see the battle unfold with greater clarity. The thunderous crack of the humans’ ‘boomsticks’ echoed down from the mountains, startling sleeping birds, which screeched their displeasure and dive-bombed the orcs and the dead with droppings as they fled.

Ignoring the splatters of filth, Jiak focused on the battle and a grim satisfaction curled his lips as he watched the dead reach the walls, only to curse under his breath when some sort of a wave of fire magic reduced them to ash.

"Do someth'n," he snarled at the Elder. "We’re los'n 'da spirits ta dere boomsticks!"

A weary sigh came from within the Elder’s hood. "I’ve done all i kan. If ‘da spirits kannot breach ‘da walls, dere’s little more i kan offa."

"Den br'n ‘da spirits back," Jiak demanded in frustration. "Don’t waste 'da spirits’ bodiez!"

————————————————————————

Odysseus clung tightly to the frame of the open-top jeep as it raced down the road toward Alpha Wall. The wind whipped violently against his face, sending his untied hair flying in all directions. As the gusts battered him, he found himself considering, rather absurdly, whether he should cut his hair short like the humans. The thought was fleeting as he tightened his grip on the handlebars and his knuckles turned white with tension.

Despite the early morning hour, the road was unusually busy. Battle tanks rumbled past, going up and down the road in a steady stream. Normally, this time of day would see the roads empty, but today was different. Odysseus couldn’t help but wonder what was happening. The sky was overcast, and he wondered if a storm was approaching, imagining how miserable it would be to ride through the rain in an open vehicle. But as the rumble of thunder grew louder, he realized something was off.

As they neared the Alpha Wall, that was when Odysseus realized that the thunder were actually the Magic Rifles firing from the Wall. He leaned forward and yelled over the wind to the driver.

"Are those the Magic Guns? Are we under attack again?"

"Yes, Sir," the driver replied, keeping his eyes on the road. "They need you to help with something."

Odysseus fell silent, a knot of apprehension tightening in his chest. If they needed him, it meant something beyond the ordinary, a magical threat, something that required his expertise. The biting wind cut through his clothes, and he cursed himself for not bringing a cloak. The ride had already stretched over an hour, and he shivered as the cold seeped into his bones.

Finally, the jeep pulled into the camp at the base of the wall, passing through two gates before stopping at the third. The driver turned to Odysseus, "Sir, this is as far as I can take you. Someone will escort you inside."

Odysseus nodded his thanks and disembarked. Almost immediately, two soldiers in dark green uniforms approached. "Sir, please follow us," one of them said respectfully, standing at parade rest until Odysseus acknowledged them.

"Lead the way," Odysseus replied, falling in step behind the soldiers. They led him past the gate and to another jeep waiting just inside.

The second leg of the journey was brief, less than five minutes, before they arrived at a squat, gray concrete structure nestled against the mountainside. The sound of gunfire was louder here, reverberating off the walls and making it clear just how close they were to the action. The soldiers led him through a door at the side of the structure, past multiple guards and checkpoints, before finally entering a large room that hummed with activity. The space was reminiscent of the bridge of one of the humans’ giant ships, dominated by enormous display screens that flickered with various tactical images.

Colonel Ciaphas Cahyono looked up as Odysseus entered, the two escorting soldiers snapping crisp salutes before being dismissed. Ciaphas returned the gesture and waved the elf over.

"Welcome, Sir Odysseus."

Odysseus took in the busy chamber with a quick glance before descending a short flight of stairs to the center of the command room. Emulating the human custom, he grasped Ciaphas’ outstretched hand in a firm handshake.

"How are you doing?" Odysseus asked.

"Good, Sir," Ciaphas answered, smiling at the elf.

"Greetings to you as well, Sergeant Pice," Odysseus said, extending his hand to shake Pice's. "So, what’s the situation?"

"Well, Sir, we were hoping you could tell us," Ciaphas replied, motioning Odysseus toward the display. A playback video of the undead attack flickered to life on the screen, and Odysseus leaned in, scrutinizing the images.

"They appeared to be undead, raised from the grave by dark magic," Odysseus said as he studied the imagery on the display.

Ciaphas and Pice stood silently, waiting for Odysseus to continue. "Hmmm, the Orcs seem quite proficient in the Dark Arts."

"Is there any way to stop them?" Pice asked. "We’ve found that destroying the head and burning the bodies seems to help."

"Yes, that makes sense," Odysseus replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "From what I understand, spirits inhabit the dead bodies and control their movements by anchoring themselves in the head, which acts as a sort of container. By destroying the head, the spirits lose control, or if the body is too badly damaged, they leave voluntarily from their hosts."

"Is there a necromancer raising the dead?" Ciaphas inquired.

"Neko-man-sir?" Odysseus frowned at the unfamiliar word. "You mean a Spirit Caster?"

"What’s a Spirit Caster?" Pice asked before Ciaphas could respond.

"Hmm, from what I know, a Spirit Caster is someone with the ability to communicate with spirits and command them," Odysseus explained. "They don’t actually revive the dead. What they do is summon spirits from the Aether to inhabit the bodies of the deceased, allowing the spirits to use the bodies as hosts."

“I see. But what exactly is the Aether you mentioned?” Ciaphas asked.

Odysseus shrugged, "I’m not entirely sure. It has other names such as the Spirit Realm, the Aether, the Inmaterium, etcetera. But all I know is that it’s another plane of existence where spirits reside, but even I don’t know much about it."

"I see," Pice nodded, then briefly explained what a necromancer is in their terms.

"Hmmm, so Spirit Casters are quite similar to your necromancers," Odysseus remarked with interest. "I’d like to purchase that book I’ve been hearing about."

"Sir Aston, please," Ciaphas interrupted, steering the conversation back on track. "We have more pressing issues. Is there any way or any spells that can stop the undead? And can the spirits control living bodies?"

"Hmmm, I’ll need to do some research, but from what I know, spirits can only control dead bodies," Odysseus replied, his brow furrowing in thought. "All the relevant texts I’ve read are in the libraries of the capital city on High Tarxan."

Ciaphas exchanged a dismayed look with Pice. "Damn. Alright, we’ll send you back immediately. If you find anything useful, please inform us directly," he said, signaling a nearby guard to approach.

"Private, escort Sir Aston to the motor pool and have one of the drivers return him to the city as quickly as possible," Ciaphas instructed the guard, who acknowledged with a nod.

"Sir, I’ll assign someone to accompany you. He’ll have communication equipment so you can contact us directly," Ciaphas added, and Odysseus nodded in understanding while Pice picked up a handset to make a call.

Ciaphas nodded to the Private, who then led the elf out of the command center toward the motor pool.

"What a waste of time," Ciaphas muttered once Odysseus was out of earshot. "It was a mistake not to have a direct line of communication with him, we’ll need to rectify that."

————————————————————————

Austronesia Empire, Imperial Maharlika, Metro Manila, Malacanang Palace, Conference Room

1st Year of God, Monday, 4th Week, Month of Abraham

"Alright, settle down, everyone," Emperor Maximo commanded, bringing the meeting to order. The conference room fell silent as he took his customary seat after returning the salutes from his officers.

"Now, I’m sure most of you are aware that New Guinea has been under attack by Orc forces for the past week," Maximo began. "We’ve kept the news of the siege from the public, as we believe we have the situation under control for now." He continued, "For those not fully briefed, we are still holding the territory, though we've suffered 88 casualties. Intelligence estimates that enemy losses are over thirty thousand."

The display screen flickered to show Colonel Ciaphas Cohyono, who nodded as he participated in the meeting via video conference. [Not counting the undead, we’ve also captured many of their crude firearms,] he added.

The discovery that the Orcs had managed to reverse-engineer firearms and build their own sent the Austronesian government into high alert. Technicians who studied these weapons found that, despite their primitive and nonsensical design, they were surprisingly devastating, rivaling small cannons in power. The inexplicable nature of the weapons was likely due to Orc magic.

"When the Orcs first appeared at the edge of the forest and attempted to raid one of our rebuilt cities," Maximo recounted, "Our snipers decimated their gunners from afar with precise and deadly fire."

[The first operation involving Omega-191 was a great success,] Ciaphas reported from the video call. [They destroyed the enemy’s weapon supply and a significant number of undead.]

"Omega-191?" a politician questioned. "What is that?"

Maximo nodded to Cohyono, who explained, [Omega-191, codenamed ‘The Tempest Scions,’ is a special operations task force specifically created to combat magical threats using magic.]

[They are one of our elite task forces and have undergone additional specialized training,] he continued. [This includes Enhanced Combat Magic Theory, which is a fusion of human knowledge in natural science, physics, and magic, taught with the assistance of a few elves.]

[Each member of Omega-191 is highly skilled in stealth infiltration, direct magic combat, and anti-magic countermeasures,] Ciaphas announced with pride, [Aided by numerous magical artifacts obtained by Team Epsilon from Aquarius.] As the architect of this elite unit, he took particular satisfaction in introducing them.

[We are planning a new operation to eliminate the source of the undead forces once and for all,] he continued. [If successful, it could mark the end of the battle at New Guinea.]

"Miss Shelberry?" Maximo invited Melian Shelberry to take over one of the screens to provide her insights.

[Ahem, regarding the undead, the books I have don’t cover much on Black or Dark Magic, as it’s considered taboo magic and most spells or literature related to the Dark Arts were destroyed upon discovery,] she explained. [However, I did manage to find a fragment of a diary from a Court Magician dating back hundreds of years. It describes their battle against the undead.]

She skillfully manipulated the keypad in front of her, and a scanned image of an ancient, yellowed parchment appeared on the room’s display screen. [I’ve translated as much of the old language as I could. Here’s what it says.]

Beneath the scanned image, a translation appeared: "Fought over a fortnight with thy cursed dead, numbering in the hundreds. My vanguard of brave warriors gave their blood to open a path to the Spirit Caster, and after several bouts of spell weaving, I stood victorious. Yet the dead still roam and hunger for the flesh of the living."

"Is that all?" one of the General Staff members asked in a skeptical tone. "Defeating the Spirit Caster here doesn’t stop the undead. It doesn’t tell us how to end this for good."

Melian offered an apologetic nod. [That’s all the diary contained. But we’ve deduced that there might be a magical anchor sustaining the spell that keeps reviving the dead. If we can confirm its existence, destroying this anchor could end the undead threat permanently.]

[That’s where The Tempest Scions come in,] Ciaphas added. [We’ll deploy them stealthily. Their mission will be to eliminate the Spirit Caster or necromancer and locate any evidence of a magical anchor. Once identified, their objective will be to destroy it.]

[Details of the operation will be released after its execution.]